The Start of a New Era
by Grey Tulip
Summary: The first Hunger Games after the war are about to begin.


**A/N: **Just a small story that came to my mind about Katniss agreeing to the final Capitol-only Hunger Games. It is a scene that has always bugged me, as the consequences of that are never fully explained in the original. This is my (particularly dark) take on what the victors' vote might lead to. Just a standalone for now, I might add a second or third snippet to the story about the games'aftermath though.

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"Only twenty minutes left until the start of the very first Hunger Games of the new era!" The voice of the announcer can be heard in each of the metal cages she and the other tributes are trapped in until the games begin. Her name is Justitia, though most people just call her Jay. Both names made her the target of many jokes and jeers during the interviews. She thinks that her name patron would not approve of the warped idea of justice of display here. The parallels drawn to the 'Mockingjay' are even worse, though. After all, it is her fault Jay is even here now.

She is from Area 9, the northernmost of the 12 areas the Capitol was divided into after the war. It is one of the poorer regions of the Capitol, which gives her a fighting chance. At least she went into this already physically fit. She thinks of the fat boy from Area 5, Josh, or Melly, the preppy girl from 7. Neither of them deserve this, and she knows they do not stand a chance. And if necessary, she knows she will take them out, too. What other choice does she have. Some of the others have banded together and sworn to not lift a hand, not even to defend themselves. This kind of defiance was dangerous before – it sparked the rebellion, after all. But she knows that there will be no rebellion this time. You do not fight, you get slaughtered. Most in the districts will see it as poetic justice, and the capitol has no will left to fight.

"Jay, can you hear me? Say if you can hear me." Her uncle's voice is shaking, but slowly grows firmer. She knows he is trying to stay strong for her. Since there are no victor's yet, every tribute had to choose a family member as their mentor. She thinks it just additional cruelty. If she does not win, she knows that her uncle will blame himself for it for the rest of his life, that it was his strategy, his preparation that killed her.

"Yes, I can hear you."

"Okay. Stick to the plan, you hear me?" She swallows down a sarcastic 'I already said that I can hear you.' Now is not the time for that. "Let the others fight for the centre. Find a safe spot to hide. Make sure it's easily defendable. We have enough money to send you a weapon. Don't risk getting killed fighting over one." She is not fancied to win – she had a score of 6 in the combat rankings, leaving her in joint 9th. Add to that that she has turned fourteen just yesterday, making her the second youngest of the tributes, and it is easy to see why the polls only rank her in 11th. But her name gives her some fans in the districts, despite Coin's death – enough that she knows she has received the third most money so far. While she may not like the mockingjay, she knew how to play it up for the audience during the interviews.

"Only one more minute until the spectacle begins!" the announcer cheerfully proclaims. Her stomach has tied itself into at least a dozen knots. "Good luck out there. I know you'll do great. We all love you. Now, go get'm!" Her uncle rushes out the final words. Only a little bit of time left.

"Love you, too. I'll see you again, I promise." She knows it's a promise only luck can help her keep.

"Here are our tributes now!" A stray vision of herself strangling that f-ing announcer disappears as quickly as it came. Not the time for that.

The cages lift. She has to squint her eyes immediately. There is sand everywhere, and the light is so bright she can barely see the tributes on the other side of the cornucopia. Some poor idiot panics and starts to run, stepping on one of the still active mines surrounding their starting spots. Her chocked off scream sets a nice tone for what is to come. Shuddering, she turns around. There is dunes in every direction. A tiny oasis to her left, where she already knows all of them will have to go eventually. Water is the most important resource here. Shade is a close second. She looks over her shoulder. In her back, there is a big, craggy outcrop. No doubt it is filled with hyper-aggressive scorpions or something, but it seems to be the best bet regardless. Everywhere else is too exposed. To the sun and to her fellow tributes. She now regrets having come in here with her hair dyed a Capitol-typical electric blue. It is a sign of defiance she thought necessary, but she is not so sure about that now. Not when it might kill her by making her stick out like a bright blue thumb on the vast, yellow expanse of the dunes.

"Ten…Nine…Eight…" The countdown has begun. She quickly glances at the other tributes. The boy to her left eyes her warily, but his feet are set in a way that makes it clear he intends to run for the cornucopia as soon as he can. He will not follow her. None of the others pay her any mind.

"…Two…One…"

She runs.


End file.
